


The King Upon His Throne

by SaenaLife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Job, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, power!kink, voice!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/pseuds/SaenaLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working with the Winchesters means you ended up on Crowley's radar, which is almost never a good thing. But you could never have predicted what would happen once you stood in front of the real King of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King Upon His Throne

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I had a thing for Crowley (although one of my OFCs most definitely does). Then I had a snippet of a dream about kissing him, and lo and behold, a fic was born! It was just going to be a short one-shot, but here we are. I hope you like it!
> 
> A/N: I hate having to introduce Dean's knife as “Ruby's knife” or the “demon-killing knife”, so I've decided that from now on, I'm going to refer to it as what it actually is in canon: an ancient knife made by the Kurds to kill demons or “the Kurdish knife” for short.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Supernatural canon. Everything else is mine.

You'd never actually met Crowley before and you were more than a little scared. He was the King of Hell, for fuck's sake! An incredibly powerful creature who cared for nothing beyond sowing chaos and amassing power. You, on the other hand, were a comparative nobody and liked it that way. You would never be in this situation if you hadn't gotten closer to a Winchester case than was generally healthy. Yet here you were, standing _in Hell_ , waiting to meet the demon himself. It helped your nerves somewhat that the brothers were there with you, although the fact that their arms were currently tied behind them around stone columns dampened the effect somewhat.

Catching Dean's eye, you forced a little smile in an effort to ease the obvious guilt he was feeling at getting you so involved that Crowley noticed your existence. Normally, he and Sam would have kept you so far out of the line of fire that you wouldn't have ever seen (as Dean called him) “that lethal, sneaky son-of-a-bitch” face to face. Your talent was psychometry and with the Winchesters, that usually meant haunted objects. Normally, the brothers could bring you an object to read, then put a safe distance between you and them before engaging the ghost.

Not on this case, though. This time it was different; they couldn't bring the item to you to read because they had needed your help to find it in the first place...

 

_* * * * * * * * *_

AN HOUR EARLIER:

 _The chilly air of the marble crypt_ _drifted_ _over your skin and you shivered. Sam noticed, reaching a long arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him for a quick hug, rubbing one hand up and down your arm to warm you up. “Sure you don't want my jacket, Y/N? You know me, I'm a furnace.” He grinned down at you and you smiled back, shaking your head._

_“Nah, just a draft. I'll be fine, big brother.” You couldn't resist the tiny dig at his protectiveness and your smile widened at him before you moved back to the wall, placing both palms flat on the surface of yet another blank square of stone representing yet another unnamed body inside. Focusing, you cautiously opened your inner senses, peeking through the veil of time to see if anyone stood on the other side._

_Nothing._

_Again._

_With a sigh of resignation, you moved on to the next. “Seriously, Sam, what the hell was up with these people? Hundreds, HUNDREDS, of unmarked graves in this crypt! Who_ does _that?!”_

_“I guess when they called themselves a secret society, they really meant it. Sorry we couldn't find any other way to figure out which one is the ghost, Y/N. We know you'd rather stay behind the scenes on these things.” A wry expression crossed his face. “Hell, we both hate putting you anywhere close to the front line. What would we do if you got hurt?”_

_Giving up on the current grave, you turned to face him. “You'd save me, Sam. I've never doubted that.” With a friendly bump of your shoulder on his arm, you looked down the corridor where an intersection led off to the right. “Okay, two more to the corner there and then I need a break. This shit's harder than it looks.”_

_As you spoke, Dean clattered down the stairs into the crypt. “Looks like we're in the clear, it was just the groundskeeper locking up for the night. I watched him drive off.” His green eyes met yours hopefully. “Any progress down here?”_

_You waved your hand at the line of graves stretching back to the entrance. “If you can call a whole lot of nothin' progress, then yes, there's been some.” Rolling your neck to ease tense muscles, you once again reached out to place your hands on the cold marble._

_The brothers waited in silence, frowning when you stepped back shaking your head. The doubt was clear on your face when you looked at them. “Guys, I don't even know if I can actually do this. How am I supposed to tell which one is anchoring the ghost? Obviously, none of these people ever touched their own gravestones and that's usually how I get impressions.”_

_Dean looked at you earnestly. “We know that, Y/N, but you're our best shot. We have faith in you.” His grin flashed. “And if this don't work, you can always help us bust up all these graves.”_

_“Fat chance of that! I'd recommend you rent a backhoe.” With that, you turned back to the wall and silence fell._

_It was broken seconds later by a deep voice that sent a shiver down your spine._

_“Hello, boys.”_

_Before you could register the implications, Sam had shoved you down the corridor to the right, angling his body as he turned to hide your movement. You heard Dean's angry voice._

_“Fuck it all, Crowley, don't you have anything better to do than follow us around like a god-damned puppy dog?!” Carefully peeking around the corner, you saw Dean throw his arms in the air, obviously trying to make sure the demon's focus was on him and not you. “Every fuckin' place we go these days, you show up!”_

_“Can I help it if I've taken an interest in this case of yours?” The voice drew your eye to the by-now familiar figure in the expensive dark suit. Dean was right; Crowley kept showing up at odd moments. You'd been helping to track down the crypt using the personal effects of one of the secret society's members and had caught a number of glimpses of the King of Hell during the last few days. So far, the brothers had managed to stash you away, keep you out of sight. Your heart raced when you remembered Sam's words: “People Crowley notices usually end up in Hell.”_

_Sam spoke up, stepping forward to stand beside Dean, effectively blocking the corridor. “For once in your annoying existence, forget the bullshit and get to the point!”_

_“Ah, the point, yes,” Crowley said as a sly smile crossed his face, “the point_ is _that I've come to take the three of you back to Hell for a little, shall we say... negotiation?” At the word “three”, you whipped your head back around the corner, pressing yourself to the wall and squeezing your eyes shut, frantically praying that he wasn't talking about you._

_“You need to get your eyes checked, Crowley, 'cause there's only the two of us here.” Dean's voice was low and dangerous. “So take us, if you think you can.” He slid the Kurdish knife out of his jacket and fell into a fighting stance. Sam drew his own knife and did the same._

_“Now, boys, don't be ridiculous. The jig, as they say, is up. Did you really think I hadn't noticed that gorgeous piece of ass that's been slumming it with you two for the last couple of days?”_

_Your eyes slammed open in shock. “Gorgeous piece of ass”?! While you were grappling with that staggering bit of description, you dimly heard what sounded like someone snapping their fingers. The next instant, two strange men stood in front of you and you couldn't prevent the scream of fear that escaped when their eyes flicked black and they reached for you._

_“Y/N!” You heard both brothers shouting your name as your captors dragged you around the corner, to be confronted by the sight of the Winchesters outnumbered two to one. They both looked ready to take those odds, but the smaller of the ones holding you flicked open a nasty looking switchblade and held it to your throat, hard enough to graze through the first few layers of skin. You gasped in pain and fright, freezing in place and looking at the boys with wide eyes._

_Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, acknowledging what they both knew. There was no way to win this round without getting you hurt or killed; they'd just have to wait until they saw a better chance. Without a word, they tossed their weapons to the ground and raised their hands_

_“Excellent choice, fellows.” Though you couldn't see Crowley down the crowded corridor, you could still hear the distinctive snap of fingers a split second before darkness whirled in on you._

 

_* * * * * * * * *_

 

Which brought you to now, a hostage in Hell, waiting to see what His Royal Dickbag (another Dean gem) had in mind for the three of you. Your arms were free, although you still had your demon escorts practically breathing down your neck. Sam and Dean, bound and to all appearances helpless, flanked the open area facing what you had to assume was the Throne of Hell (which wasn't as impressive as you would have thought). They were still outnumbered by their own demon guards. Crowley was obviously taking no chances with the Winchesters.

The wait was fraying your nerves and you shifted restlessly, trying not to think about what kinds of things were going on outside the large doors that you assumed led into Hell proper. Sam noticed your unease and when he spoke, his voice was reassuring. “Hey, Y/N, it's gonna be alri...” He broke off when the demon goon standing next to him buried an elbow in his gut.

“King said no talking.” The thing's voice was monotone and its expression bored. Sam hunched over, getting his breath back before he met your eyes with a little shake of his head to let you know he wasn't really hurt.

“Now, is that any way to treat our guests?” You tore your eyes from Sam's to stare up at the throne, where Crowley was sitting for all the world as if he'd been there the whole time. “This was supposed to be a friendly meeting.” Crowley stood and descended the steps, moving toward you. “In fact, I'd like to be introduced to this lovely expression of womanhood.”

Watching him approach, the sound of his voice still in your ears and the memory of his words about you running through your brain, your whole body tensed with stunned comprehension. Suddenly, so much about the last few days became crystal clear - all those thoughts lurking half formed in the back of your brain, the images that you stuffed down deep without ever looking too closely at what they contained, all of it starting from the moment you'd first seen the King of Hell. Holy shit! _You wanted Crowley_!

It couldn't be true, but there was no denying the reaction in your body to his presence. As he came to a stop in front of you, your eyes widened and your breath sped up. You did your best to pretend that it was strictly fear causing your reaction and not the totally unreasonable lust that was running through you. You must have been convincing, because he simply looked you over for a moment before turning back to Dean, completely missing the way your pupils dilated and the flush that slowly climbed into your cheeks as you watched his profile.

When he spoke, Crowley's voice sent a pulse of heat through you. “Well, aren't you going to introduce us?”

“No, I ain't gonna introduce you! She don't mean nothin' to you.” Dean pulled against the ropes binding him. “Besides, I'm not exactly feeling the courtesy-vibe here.”

“On the contrary, Dean, Y/N here is very important to me at the moment.” You saw Crowley start to turn back to you and hurriedly dropped your eyes to the tips of your shoes, desperately trying to control the wave of yearning that went through you at the thought of meeting his eyes and letting him see the desire there. He went on, though you were barely aware of what he was saying through the fog of your confused arousal. “She's my insurance that you'll behave if I cut you loose so that we can talk like civilized people.”

“Yeah, except that you haven't been “people” for a long time now, have you, Crowley?” Sam's voice was taunting.

With a long suffering sigh, Crowley turned to him. “Yes, yes. Thank you for pointing out the absurdly obvious, Moose. Hard to believe I used to think you were the brains of the outfit.” He swiveled back to Dean. “So do we have a gentleman's agreement? I guarantee Y/N's safety and you listen to my proposal.”

“Do you seriously expect us to trust you?”

“You know me, Dean; you know I honor my deals. However, just to sweeten the pot, I'll tell you that if you don't cooperate, I will guarantee Y/N's very definite _un_ -safety, if you catch my drift.”

Frowning fiercely, Dean exchanged another silent look with Sam and then reluctantly capitulated. “Fine! We'll listen. But you better understand that if anything happens to her, there will be no place for you to hide.”

Crowley's mouth twisted in a mocking quarter-smile.. “Oh Dean, you know it makes me all weak-kneed and tremble-y when you get threatening like that.” He waved a languid hand in their direction and the ropes around them dropped to the ground. “Now! To business.”

You tried to listen to what they were saying, you really did. And to some extent, you succeeded, tuning into the questions Sam and Dean were asking, but unable to maintain focus once Crowley started talking. You gathered that he wanted them to locate and capture a rogue demon, a defector from the court, and there was something about secrets Crowley didn't want other demons to hear. You heard Dean ask what was in it for them, but honestly, that's the last you really remember from the conversation.

It was Crowley's voice. Well, that and everything else. But right now, it was his voice. When you'd first heard him speak, it had struck you as somehow both gravelly and fluid, water over granite. You couldn't tell if it had changed or if you had, but it sounded different now. Listening to him cajole and taunt and deal, his voice was like darkest chocolate laced with chilies: bitter and smooth, with a hint of sweetness, and studded with unexpected spikes of heat that left you flushed and craving more.

“Fine! Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but you got yourself a deal.” Dragging you from your reverie, Dean's voice was clipped, anger flowing below the surface of resigned acceptance.

“I'm thrilled, truly.” As you were coming to expect from him, it was impossible to tell how much truth lay in Crowley's words. “Remember, I want him contained, but alive. Muck it up and the deal's off.”

“Yeah, Crowley, we heard you the first five times.” Sam didn't bother to keep the contempt out of his voice or his face, but the demon seemed unfazed.

“Don't get your panties in a twist, Samantha, I'm just making sure you two Neanderthals understand the deal.”

Negotiations concluded, you watched the brothers turn toward the door, obviously expecting that you would be right with them. Hesitating, you glanced at Crowley, dismayed at the thought that you might never get another chance to be this close to him. Brain whirling, you tried to sift through your own conflicting feelings, hoping to decipher the path of least regret. He saw your look and stepped closer, curiosity plain on his attractive features.

“Is there something else, my dear?”

It was hearing his voice up close that spurred you to action. “Yes, there is,” you murmured, decision made as you moved closer to him, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the lapels of his suit, eyes steady on his. “Do you mind if I kiss you?” Without waiting for an answer, you tugged him closer, raising your mouth to his. Crowley stood there, stunned and motionless, until you pressed your parted lips to the corner of his mouth, gently biting at his top lip.

Then, finally, his hungry mouth was on yours, his arms crushing you to his chest with demon strength and you moaned at the feel of him against you. You had only discovered your desire for Crowley ten minutes ago, but you felt like you'd been starving for the taste of his mouth all your life. Any distance between you was unendurable and you wrapped yourself around him as if your life depended on it.

“Y/N! What the fuck?!” The shocked horror in Dean's voice was barely enough to pierce your awareness and pull you back, just a little, from that place where the only thing that mattered was _more Crowley_. Without relinquishing Crowley's mouth, you waved a vague hand in the direction of the door, silently asking the Winchesters to hold their horses for a sec. There were sounds of a scuffle as the brothers lunged in your direction, intent on dragging you out the door, before they were forcibly subdued by the demon bodyguards. You didn't even notice.

After a few more moments, you managed to give up his sinfully delicious lips, but you couldn't make yourself pull away entirely. You only made it as far as his scruff-covered jaw before sliding down to the smooth stretch of skin below his ear. Your voice was breathy and low when you spoke. “So, you honor your deals, huh?”

His grip on you tightened when you nibbled lightly on his neck and his voice was just the slightest bit strained. “It's a point of pride, my dear.”

  
You pulled back to look at him, eyes glinting wickedly. “How about this deal then? I stay here for the moment and we have _all kinds_ of fun. But everything has to be consensual and when I'm ready to leave, you have to take me home, completely unharmed. Deal?”

“Deal.” Crowley spoke without hesitation. He leaned in and claimed your lips with his own and you could swear your inner senses felt something click into place. It felt very much like binding magic. Apparently, Crowley's deal was more than just his word.

Then the kiss deepened and you forgot everything except the pure physical sensations enveloping you – the smooth, sinuous heat of his tongue against yours; the exquisite scratch of his beard under your lips; how one arm was a steel band around your back, making it almost impossible to draw a full breath. His other hand dragged down to squeeze your ass hard enough to make you moan into his mouth and raise one leg up to his hip, pressing the empty ache at your center against the bulge of his cock.

With a growl, Crowley swiftly hooked his hand under your thigh and picked you up just long enough to cross the few steps to the nearest column, pushing you hard into it with his hips as he dropped his mouth to your neck. The feel of his teeth on your skin made you cry out, clutching him to you even more fiercely before reclaiming his mouth with your own.

“Crowley! Stop it!” The shouts were beginning to trickle into your awareness. “I mean it, whatever you're doing to make Y/N act like that, stop it now or I'll tear you to shreds!” Dean's voice was full of menace, but the undercurrent of panic finally brought you back to yourself.

Knowing that you needed to reassure them, you pulled away from Crowley's mouth, but kept your arms locked around him as you met Sam's eyes and then Dean's. Your smile was gentle, but your voice was certain when you spoke. “He's not going to hurt me.”

Crowley's chuckle huffed into your neck before that decadent voice rumbled in your ear. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Momentarily distracted by his lips on your skin, your eyes slid shut and you sighed with pleasure. “You're not helping, you know,” you murmured.

Grinding his hips against you in a way that pulled a soft moan from your lips, he met your eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Not trying to.”

“Y/N?” Finally, it was the sheer hurt in Sam's call of your name that broke through the overwhelming awareness of Crowley against you and touched a chord of remorse.

“Give me a second,” you whispered into his ear before straightening up from the column and stepping toward your friends. Crowley released you without a word and you saw the brothers take note of that fact. You came to a stop a few feet away, hands held out in an unconscious gesture of pleading. “I'm so sorry about this. I know it must seem crazy to you; to be honest it does to me, too. But I can tell you that I am not under any kind of spell.” Dean's eyebrows flew up and a skeptical noise escaped his lips. Very calmly, you caught and held his gaze. “I mean it, Dean. My mind is clear and I know what I want.”

“And you want...” Sam waved his hand in Crowley's direction, at a temporary loss for words, “... this?”

Feeling a pain in your chest, you stared up into his eyes. “Yes, Sam. I know you might not ever forgive me for this, or ever trust me again, but it _is_ what I want.”

Dean's voice was gritty and hard when he finally spoke again. “So what does that mean, then? You movin' downstairs permanently, Persephone?”

All too familiar with the way Dean masked his hurt with anger, the pain in your chest redoubled, but you pressed on. “It means I'm staying here tonight, maybe longer.”

“What about the job? You know, where you help us save people?”

The harsh bite of his sarcasm brought tears to your eyes, but you fought them back. _I have a right to live my own life, damn it!_ Taking a deep breath, you straightened to face Dean, refusing to cower. “I can still help with the case. I'll call you tomorrow and we can meet back at the crypt.”

“Actually, that won't be necessary.” Crowley's voice sounded behind you, sending a shiver down your spine as his steps approached. Before you could turn to look, his hands were sliding around your waist, pulling you gently back against his chest. He nuzzled under your ear and your hands drifted up to lay over his as your knees weakened.

“It sure as fuck is necessary! We gotta put that ghost down!”

Busy kissing and nipping at the skin of your neck, Crowley didn't even look up. “Second corridor on the right, three graves down from the end, on the left side. That's your huckleberry.”

Both Winchesters glared at him suspiciously, but Dean was the one who spoke. “How the fuck would you know that?”

Raising his head, Crowley gave them a direct look. “Convenient coincidence.” With that, he snapped his fingers and the Winchesters disappeared.

Sighing at the less-than-optimal end to the conversation, you turned in Crowley's arms. Forgetting your half-formed intention to scold him for deliberately making things worse with the Winchesters (and what in the world made you think you could get away with scolding the King of Hell anyway?), you took his face in your hands. Although your pulse raced, it wasn't from fright, despite the fact that every rational part of your brain was screaming that you should be terrified of Crowley, of what he was and the power he wielded.

No, your heart was pounding because for the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged. Here, in Hell, wrapped around the Lord of Evil, you finally felt at home. It confused you and you gazed into his eyes questioningly.

“Why do I feel so safe with you?”

“I'd think you'd know that better than I, love.” Crowley leaned in to nibble at your lower lip and your fingers slid into his hair as you kissed each other lingeringly.

Pulling back a little, you murmured against his mouth, unwilling to allow more space between his lips and yours. “All I know is that you've been in my dreams since the moment I first saw you.” He groaned against your lips and you felt the vibration all the way down to your pussy. Rolling your hips, pressing yourself hard into his thigh, you whispered. “Tell me you felt the same.”

At that, Crowley straightened, looking you in the eye, pinning you with his gaze as he raised his voice a little. “Everybody out.” The words weren't loud, but the command somehow carried effortlessly into every corner of the room and you heard underlings immediately begin to scurry for the exits. The room was clear in a matter of seconds, doors closing with muted thunks. Still holding eye contact, Crowley's generous mouth softened into a small smile.

“I'll admit to a certain interest in the ravishing woman I caught a glimpse of while doing a little reconnaissance on the Brothers Grimm.” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “A word of advice: never tell anyone that I said even that much. My enemies will grasp at whatever straw they can find and wouldn't hesitate to try to use you as leverage against me.” Lightly running the tip of his tongue along your earlobe, making you shiver, he continued. “When that fails,” he dropped a kiss to the skin of your neck, “and make no mistake,” another kiss, “it _will_ fail,” and another, “they won't hesitate to kill you.” With that, Crowley latched onto the tendon below your ear, sucking hard before nipping at you sharply enough to make you cry out and arch into him.

Shoving your hands into his hair and dragging his mouth back to yours, you bit at his lower lip, demanding access to his mouth and he obliged with every show of eagerness. When his hand slid up to roughly squeeze and massage your breast, you moaned into him, suddenly trembling and short of breath. Reluctantly breaking off the kiss, panting a little, your eye was drawn to the throne that sat at the front of the room. Despite the fact that it wasn't terribly impressive, it still represented Crowley's power over Hell and there was something about that that you found incredibly arousing.

“I want to see you on the throne,” you sighed, with a nod to the front of the room.

“You do, do you?” Crowley chuckled. “Very well,” he raised his hand, “but let's make it worth your while, shall we?” He snapped and with a rush of darkness, the dingy room with its jumped-up office chair of a throne disappeared, to be replaced by a space filled with dazzling light. You blinked hard, raising a hand to shield your eyes so that you could take in your surroundings.

It was a vast room and your mind reeled a little at the extreme change in venue. You were facing a gigantic pair of golden doors, that had to be over a hundred yards away and stretched maybe a third of the way up the sixty feet to the ceiling curving overhead. Between you and the doors stretched what looked like acres of shining black marble laced with gold, graceful columns of the same material rising at irregular intervals to reach upward to the dome overhead.

In spite of the color scheme, light flooded the room, blazing out from hundreds, maybe thousands of lamps floating at various heights below the distant ceiling. As you stared, it became obvious to you that, although the floor and columns were polished and gleaming, they had never been worked by any hand. It looked for all the world as if the marble had simply grown that way, elegant shining stalagmites and stalactites reaching for each other over the millenia.

Crowley's hand on your arm brought you out of your fascinated scrutiny, pulling lightly to bring you around to face the other direction. The entire end of the room opposite the doors wavered with a curtain of living flame, gossamer thin and drifting in a subterranean breeze, yet somehow recognizably real fire. It was mind-boggling and fantastically beautiful and you barely noticed it, because standing dead center in front of the infernal backdrop, dark and compelling, was the Throne.

Mesmerized, you moved closer, stopping well short of the three steps leading up to its platform, studying it closely. The Throne of Hell was massive, easily 25 feet tall and nearly that in width. You couldn't tell what it was made of, but it looked like stone of some kind, matte black like lava rock, but smooth instead of porous. It stretched out above you in the shape of huge flames, so realistic that you blinked for a second, under the impression that the flames moved. Watching closely, you saw that in fact, they did move, so slowly as to be almost imperceptible, fire dancing in slow motion to an unknown wind.

You stood there, unable to look away, and the feeling seeped into you that this was a thing of Power, that the Throne of Hell was not merely an inanimate object. You were more certain than you'd ever been of anything that it carried its own consciousness and that it played no small part in who ascended to its seat.

As this thought crossed your mind, Crowley did that very thing, climbing the steps up to the dais and turning to face you, staring into your eyes as he sat down. The Throne should have dwarfed his average-sized vessel, but as he took his place, Crowley's presence filled that space and for the first time, you felt you were looking at the true ruler of the Underworld.

Strangely, instead of frightening you the way you knew it should, the sight of him in the Seat of Power nearly made your knees buckle with sheer lust. All of your recently discovered hunger for Crowley had been temporarily eclipsed by the grandeur of your surroundings and the overwhelming presence of the Throne, but now it came blazing back through you in full force.

Eyes glittering and locked on his, you walked steadily up the stairs to kneel between his knees, sliding your hands up his inside his suit jacket as you tilted your face up, offering your mouth to him. Crowley's hands rose to cup your cheeks, holding you steady as his mouth descended to yours in a devastatingly skilled assault on your senses. Arching into him with a low sound, your hands snaked around to clutch at his back under the jacket, grabbing fistfuls of the black silk shirt in a vain effort to anchor yourself against the sensations pouring through you.

Crowley dropped one arm to glide around your back and drag you closer to him. At the same time, his other hand slid down to rest gently on the long line of your neck as you stretched to return his kisses. The feel of his hand on your pulse caught at you and for a split second, everything else stopped as the new awareness jolted through your entire body. Moaning, you pressed yourself closer to him, reveling in the feel of his hard length against you even through the layers of your clothes.

After a few long moments, Crowley drew back, staring down at you, tracing the shape of your face with his eyes, lingering on your parted lips. Wordlessly, he took you by the arms and raised you to stand in front of him.

“Strip.”

The curt command managed to send both a bolt of arousal sizzling over your skin and a prickle of annoyance through you at the same time. Your deal hadn't said anything about taking orders! You'd never been a fan of domineering lovers, in or out of bed. The thing was, though, that you really wanted to let him take the lead, wanted to take your clothes off for him, wanted nothing more right this moment than to _please him_.

With an internal shrug, you decided to go ahead and do what you both wanted. Wishing desperately that you had some idea how to make it look sexy, you settled for slowly, methodically removing each piece of clothing. At first, you weren't sure of the effect. Crowley's face was expressionless as you unbuttoned your flannel shirt and dropped it to lay tumbled on the steps behind you. Doubt started to creep into your mind and as you slowly began to pull your t-shirt over your head, you desperately wished that it had been laundry day and you'd had to wear your sexy black lace instead of a boring, beige bra and mismatched panties. When you glanced back at Crowley, cotton still held loosely in your fingers, all your doubts vanished.

His eyes devoured you, the avid hunger on his face enough to take your breath away and you froze for a moment, staring back at him, feeling that same hunger burn low in your belly. He didn't say anything, but Crowley's lips quirked into a smile and he lowered his eyes to the jeans you still wore. Following the unspoken demand, you toed out of your sneakers and popped open the button on your jeans, watching as Crowley's eyes tracked the slow descent of the zipper. Suddenly feeling more powerful, you slid the denim down over your thighs, wriggling your hips a little more than necessary to work the fabric down far enough to step out of it and kick the jeans away. You paused there, in nothing but your plain old everyday underwear, and the look on Crowley's face made you feel like the sexiest woman in the history of the world.

Meeting your eyes, he ran one hand down, palming the erection you could see straining against his trousers and you felt an answering rush of wetness between your legs.

“All of it.”

“Yes, my King.” You didn't know where the fuck that had come from, but the part of your brain that cared was currently being shouted down by the parts of you that craved more orders from Crowley. Reaching back, you deftly unhooked your bra, shrugging your shoulders forward to slide it off and drop it at your feet. Sighing in relief, you took a moment to caress and massage your breasts, enjoying both the freedom from the underwire and the way Crowley's eyes darkened even more as he watched you.

The feel of your fingers tugging on your own nipples sent streaks of pleasure through you and when you finally hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your pale blue cotton panties and pushed them down, your movements were more impatient and less graceful than they had been.

Thankfully, Crowley seemed to be as impatient as you were, because the moment you were naked, his hands gripped your hips, pushing one leg between your thighs as he pulled you toward him, breasts level with his face. As your legs parted, you felt a rush of cool air against your slick center in sharp contrast to his heated breath on your skin. He looked up at you with the most invitingly lascivious smile before wrapping his lips around one nipple, sucking gently and rhythmically, teasing the sensitive flesh with his teeth until you cried out, clutching at his shoulders.

He stroked one warm hand down your thigh to drift over the back of your knee as he moved to your other nipple, giving it the same lavish treatment. Shoving one hand into his hair, you held him to your breast, arching into his mouth, the fingernails of your other hand digging into the fine wool of his suit. The soft gasps and moans falling from your lips intensified when you felt the hand on your leg circle around, knuckles dragging over delicate skin in a slow but steady progress up your inner thigh. Crowley didn't tease you. Instead, he slowly drew one finger lightly through your wet pussy before landing with a gentle tap on your clit.

A loud cry escaped your lips as you jolted into his hand, legs buckling beneath you, the skin of one knee lightly grazing the smooth rock of the Throne. In a flash, it was no longer Crowley seated there, but the most beautiful man you had ever seen, even in your most heated imaginings: tall with a slender but powerful frame; hair the deep blue-black of a raven's wing; skin that seemed to glow with an inner light; generous mouth holding the slightest hint of a sneer; and eyes of a clear, ever-changing mosaic of greens and blues, the sea on a clear and windy day. And those eyes – they looked back at you.

Jerking away, you stared at Crowley, trying to catch your breath.

He gazed up at you, more puzzled than angry. “Something wrong, sweeting? Don't tell me you've changed your mind? That would be disappointing.”

Your pulse settled somewhat as you smiled down at him, realizing what had happened. “No, I haven't changed my mind. Far from it.” Careful not to touch the Throne, you moved closer, sliding one hand through the short whiskers at his jaw and biting your lip at the feel of Crowley's hands tightening on your hips again. “But I think it's a bad idea for me to touch the Throne with bare skin. It sends out some pretty strong signals.”

His frown smoothed away. “Ah, easily fixed. Since I'm rather taken with the idea of taking you here on the Throne,” he raised a hand, “we'll do it this way.” He snapped and a thick fur blanket appeared under the two of you, draped luxuriously over the wide seat, arms, and back. Running your fingers through the soft black fur, you looked at him doubtfully.

“It feels nice, but...” Even in Hell, you didn't approve of fur.

Reading your expression, Crowley rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Really?” Shaking his head, he tugged you closer, so that the plush softness brushed against your skin, sending a shiver through you. “You can relax, darling, no kittens died to make that. It's a Hellhound fur, from my own bed.” He ran a hand over it. “This pup was one of my favorites, actually.”

He lifted his face to look at you, eyes narrowing a little. “And now, I think I'd like to know a bit more about you.” As he spoke, Crowley slid his hands down your arms to your wrists, gripping them firmly and pulling your hands behind you. “Because you see, my dear, I really am fascinated by so many things about you.” Holding your forearms parallel against your back with one hand, Crowley leaned in so that you felt his hot breath on your collarbone, making your heart race higher. He continued, voice dark and mesmerizing. “Whose side are you on, for instance?”

At the question, tension began to creep into your nerves. Unsure what he meant, and trying without much success to get your lust-steeped brain to try to decipher it, you decided that silence was the safest route. Taking a deep breath, you waited for him to go on. Instead of speaking, his whiskers rasped against your skin as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your breastbone and you fought off the urge to pull against his restraining hold.

Skimming his free hand up over your ribs to idly cup and massage one breast, he smiled, although the expression wasn't terribly reassuring. “And why is it that I find myself indulging your whims when I hardly know you?” Crowley tugged sharply on your nipple, sending lust and apprehension spiraling up through you. “Why exactly are you here? What do you want?”

You looked down into those watchful eyes, feeling your pulse pounding in your ears, echoed by the throbbing in your pussy. “You know why I'm here, Crowley, and you know what I want.” He raised his eyebrows at you, silently demanding a more thorough explanation. “You. I want you. Something about you makes it impossible to think about anything but feeling your skin against mine, getting my hands and...” your voice started to get husky, your breath coming a little faster, “... my mouth on you, feeling your cock slide into me, filling me up...” You trailed off as your eyes slid shut and this time, you pulled against the hand at your back and moaned a little when his grip tightened harshly.

“That's a very pretty story, from a very pretty mouth. I would so love to believe you, but you see, you haven't answered all of my questions. I find it hard to believe that someone with your considerable charms and enough taste and refinement to find me irresistible would waste your time hanging out with those plaid-covered cretins. Either you're conning them, in which case I want in; or you're trying to con me, in which case our deal is null and void and I own you.” He gave you a gentle shake, but you felt the demon strength behind it. “Which is it?”

If you were in your right mind, which apparently you were not, you would have been terrified by the look in his eye and the possible crack in what you'd thought was a pretty solid deal. Inexplicably, instead of making you cower, it kind of pissed you off. Ignoring the fact that you were naked and your arms were still trapped behind you, you glared at him.

“Neither! Listen, just because I'm unbelievably attracted to you doesn't mean that I don't try to be a good person. Sam and Dean are like family to me, they do good work, and I'll help them whenever I can. So no, I'm not conning them.” His expression darkened. “And I'm not conning you either, for shit's sake! Just because I work with the Winchesters doesn't mean I have to walk away from what I'm guessing would be some truly incredible sex. I'm a good person, I'm not a nun!”

Something about your irritation seemed to amuse Crowley and his mouth twisted into a small, deliberate smile. “I think I'll put your claim to the test.” You looked at him in bewilderment, but then his hand began moving on your breast again, chasing everything else from your brain for a moment. His voice rumbled on. “You see, love, the quickest way to get down to the bedrock of someone's nature is to observe them experiencing intense physical sensations.”

His warm skin dragged over your own as he traced the curves of your ribs and waist with outstretched fingers, winding down over your hip and thigh, pulling the knee between his legs up and over to rest next to his thigh on the thick fur that covered the Throne. Without your arms to balance or hold onto anything, it left you stretched precariously over his lap, back arched, struggling to maintain your stance.

Before you could catch your breath, Crowley's free hand snaked around to join the other at your back and he pulled you to him, taking advantage of your posture to take a nipple into his mouth, suckling firmly.

“Ah! Fuck, Crowley!” You jerked against him, his iron hold on you the only thing keeping you from pitching backward to the marble stairs below. He continued on, mouthing at both breasts, showering attention on them with his lips and teeth and tongue while you gasped and whined above him.

He pulled back, calmly examining your face as you tried to still your trembling limbs. With no change of expression, Crowley brought one hand gliding around from your back, down over your belly and, not hesitating in the slightest, danced his fingers down through your soaking folds, brushing the length of his hand over you until he had two fingers buried in your cunt and the heel of his hand pressed to your clit.

Your reaction was more violent this time, shoving yourself down onto his fingers. Even with only one arm supporting you, Crowley's hold didn't waver in the slightest. He only gave you a moment or two to savor the exquisite feeling before he began moving, more slowly and delicately than you had expected. He kept the pace measured and leisurely, just barely fast enough to prevent you from feeling impatient. All you felt was the steady, unhurried build of the pleasure between your legs, spreading its warmth through your veins and over your skin.

His gaze roamed over you, sharp and observant on your face and body, letting his arm at your back take your full weight as you surged against him, his grip on your forearms just shy of painful. If you'd been able to open your eyes, Crowley's face would have been entirely inscrutable, until a particularly loud and wanton moan escaped you and he unconsciously took his lower lip between his teeth, holding it there as he continued to work you gradually, relentlessly toward your climax.

When it finally broke over you, billows of paralyzing bliss overwhelming your senses, your cries of satisfaction offered up to the far away dome overhead, he again pressed his hand firmly against your pussy and left it there, two fingers still inside you, letting you ride out your aftershocks at your own pace.

As your muscles began to relax, Crowley released your arms, helping you bring them around before using his immense strength to effortlessly lift your other leg so that you could rest more securely against him. Curving your arms around his neck, you kissed him passionately, body twitching when you felt him slowly press the firm bulge under his suit pants up against your softness.

Pulling back, you grinned at him. “So, did I pass the test?”

You could have sworn an answering grin started to form on his face before it detoured into a less telling smirk. “Figured that out, did you?” He casually lifted the hand that had so recently been inside your pussy, slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean. The sight sent a pulse through you and you rolled your hips over his hard-on, breath puffing out of your parted lips at the feeling.

“As a matter of fact, my lovely, you did pass, with flying colors.” Dragging his moist index finger lightly over your mouth, he leaned in for a languid kiss. “And as a reward, I'm going to allow you to undress me.”

You knew he could have snapped his fingers and you would have both been naked long before this. In spite of your impatience, you were grateful that Crowley had chosen the old fashioned method tonight. It gave you a chance to savor the experience just that much more. With a nod, you pulled yourself up a little in order to slide from his lap. As you sank to your knees in front of him again, you gave in to the unfamiliar impulse for a second time.

“Yes, my King, thank you.”

At your words, Crowley hissed out a breath and you could swear you saw his cock jump under his pants. You had no idea what had gotten into you, but it seemed to be working pretty damn well for everyone involved, so you just kept following your instincts. Smiling to yourself, you bent to your task.

Running your hands over his muscular calf, you pulled one foot to rest in your lap, sedately untying the laces and slipping the butter soft leather off his foot, setting it down to the side. Gliding your hands up under the leg of his pants, you slowly dragged the sock down with your fingertips, nails digging in slightly, with a delicate scrape over the ankle bone, just enough to make him twitch a little. Neatly tucking the sock into his shoe, you repeated the process on his other foot and by the time you raised up on your knees to begin unknotting his tie, you could hear how his breath had quickened.

You glanced into his eyes and then quickly concentrated on your fingers as they fumbled a little on the silk knot. The expression on his face, his gaze dark and intently focused on you, the sheer hunger and leashed power in that look – you didn't dare look again or you wouldn't be able to resist begging him to fuck you right that second. Even the sleek fabric under your fingertips was weakening your resolve, but hard and fast wasn't what you wanted at the moment, not yet.

Biting your lip and resolutely refusing to look up into Crowley's face, you proceeded to remove the tie, jacket, and shirt, carefully folding each piece and laying it down on the immaculate marble next to the Throne. He shifted to facilitate your work, but didn't move otherwise. Neither of you spoke and the only sounds were the almost subliminal roar and pop of the flame curtain that towered above you, the rustle of silk and wool and linen, and the sound of the two of you breathing, harmonized by the force of your mutual desire.

As you began to unfasten his belt, you couldn't help a small surge of apprehension, remembering jokes the brothers had made about why Crowley was in Hell in the first place. _Even if it's too much, we said consensual, I can call it off anytime,_ you tried to reassure yourself. He lifted his hips and you slid your hands down over his ass, skimming the silk boxers off along with the pants. When his cock sprang free, you blinked in relief and let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

“Disappointed?”

“What?” Your confused gaze flew to his, but Crowley's face was unreadable.

“You've obviously heard the stories about my deal with the devil,” he clarified, with the slightest dip of his chin down in the direction of his hard-on.

Comprehension flooded you and you smiled up at him. “No, not disappointed. I think double digits might be a little out of my depth,” you murmured drily, dropping his pants carelessly to the side and catching the glint of amusement in his eye. Looking back down, you let your hunger show plain on your face as you reached one hand to delicately run a finger up the length of his shaft, watching it twitch and sway under your touch. “This, though,” you took him in a light grip, licking your lips, feeling your mouth water at the sight, “this is _perfect_.” Unwilling to resist any longer, you reached out with your tongue, swiping a slow, wet circle around the head before lazily opening your mouth over him, taking him in with unhurried enjoyment.

If there was ever a moment that called for all your best moves, this was it. Feeling in a strange way as if you'd spent your entire adult life preparing for this moment, you didn't hesitate, instead sinking steadily down onto Crowley's cock, sliding your tongue down the underside as you went. You felt him tense in surprise as you kept going until your lips brushed the curls at the base, one hand gently squeezing his balls as you paused there.

“Ah! Fuck, Y/N!” The sound of your name riding out on a gasping groan sent new lust throbbing through you and you moaned around the thickness in your throat. Slowly you drew back, lips sliding firmly over his saliva-slicked skin, tongue dipping and spiraling along his shaft. Increasing the suction as your reached the top, you gently set your upper teeth into the ridge at the head of his cock and pressed your tongue firmly against the leaking slit at its tip, savoring the salty traces there.

Before you could begin your return descent, Crowley took your chin in his hand and lifted your mouth away from his cock. You glanced up at him, confused. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong...” he growled as he lowered his mouth to yours for a bruising kiss, “... is that you're too fucking good at that!” His hands gripped your waist and he lifted you without effort to stand in front of him. “If I let you keep using that sweet mouth on me, I'm going to come straight down your throat.” You shivered under the heat of his voice. It had gone from chocolate to whiskey, burning down into your core and filling your head with clouds of intoxication. “Then I'll have to wait to slide my cock into your hot...” he traced his fingertips along your outer lips and heightened awareness trembled through you, “...hmmm, _slick_ pussy. And I don't like to wait.” At his last word, he drew one finger swiftly up through your center to nuzzle against your clit, gently caressing it in easy circles.

Your knees buckled and you discovered that words were tumbling from your lips. “Yes, I need you, please, need your cock...” You bit back a pitiful moan when Crowley took his fingers away, knowing it was only a preamble to him filling you up. His hands returned to your waist and he prepared to lift you onto his cock, but you took hold of his wrists, stopping him.

“Wait, we need a condom.”

Crowley looked up at you, all innocence tinged with incredulity. “I swear to you, dearie, I'm clean. And you're on the pill, right?” He breathed in deep. “I can smell the hormones on you. So what's the problem?”

You briefly considered getting annoyed at his presumption, but decided it wasn't worth slowing things down and went for keeping the mood light. “As trustworthy as you _obviously_ are,” you sent him a knowing grin, “I'm no fool.” Crowley's mouth drew down into a pout. “Look, we said consensual. That's what this is, right now. It's your choice. Either you put on a condom or I put on my clothes and that's the end of it. Which is it?”

With a sigh, Crowley snapped his fingers and a condom packet appeared in his hands. He offered it up. “Do the honors?”

Chuckling, you took it, carefully tearing it open with your fingers and not your teeth. Pill or no pill, you weren't taking any chances on one of his little demon spawn making its way upstream! Once the condom was in place, you looked him in the eye. “If I hear you snap your fingers again at any time, or if you tamper with the condom at all, I will consider that breaking our deal. Point of pride, remember?”

Crowley looked offended. “I'm a demon, I'm not an animal!” This time, you felt sure there was truth in his words.

You moved closer, sliding your hands up to his shoulders. “I believe you.” Looking down into his eyes, you climbed onto the Throne, straddling Crowley's hips as his hands came up to dig into the flesh of your ass. Your knees were going to be killing you later, but right now, who the fuck cared?

As you settled into place, Crowley smiled suddenly, looking up at you. “You know, I like you.”

“Funny.” You smiled back. “I like you, too.”

Reaching down, you took his hard shaft into your hand and settled the head just at your entrance, listening to his stuttered breath. You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, before murmuring against his mouth, “May I, my King?”

He ground his response out through a clenched jaw. “Be my guest.”

Straightening a little, you began to sink down onto his cock, the shape and hardness of him pushing slowly into you, flooding you with awareness of the empty spaces inside as they were stretched and filled. As much as you would have liked to watch Crowley's own awareness of your connection spread over his face, it was impossible to keep your eyes open against the tide of sensation.

When he nudged against your back wall, you writhed a little against him, struggling to hold out against the urge to move for as long as possible. Knowing somehow that he was waiting for you, it was only seconds before you gave in and pressed yourself to his chest, arms around his neck, breathing into his ear, “Fuck me.”

Before you could raise your face to kiss him, his hands were under your thighs and Crowley was lifting you and then pulling you back down onto his cock, his hips driving up into you with delicious force. You cried out loudly enough that it would have echoed through a smaller room, already unbelievably close to coming.

You scrabbled for a grip on his shoulders as his pelvic bone kept thudding into your clit, no longer aware of the sounds that burst from you only to be swallowed up by the immensity surrounding you. In contrast, the sound of Crowley's voice flowed over you, thick with praise and profanities. Then, still lifting you with one arm, he shifted a hand around under your ass, fingers drifting over the stretched skin where his cock pushed into you.

With an ascending wail, you groped blindly for more purchase, one hand landing on the fur covering the back of the Throne. That is, most of one hand landed there. A single fingertip reached too far, pressing hard into the flesh-warm stone of the Seat of Power.

It wasn't much contact, but it was enough. He was there again, the sea-eyed man. And he was fucking you, a feral smile on his face. But no, it wasn't him, it was Crowley, with his deep voice thrumming into your brain, demanding that you shout his name when you come.

You answered him, breathless and without thought. “Ye-ess, my King.”

Crowley redoubled his efforts and your hands clenched, more of your skin slipping over the Throne.

“Say my name when you come!” The voice was different, musical and menacing at the same time. You dragged your eyes open through your looming orgasm and it was the unknown man again, although some part of you suspected you did know who he was. That part of you knew you should move your hand, break the connection, but shit, he felt so fucking good!

You realized that you could still hear Crowley and now that you thought about it, you could feel him, too. Your brain couldn't keep up with what was happening, but your body was doing just fine. More than fine, amazing. As long as you didn't think about it, you could feel them both fucking you – the man with ocean in his eyes and the man with whiskey in his voice, both of them pushing and pulling inside you, both of them demanding that you come for them.

And then the dark haired stranger's manner changed, his thrusts into you becoming more demanding and cruel, his mesmerizing eyes narrowing as the waves of your orgasm began to curl and overbalance, ready to crash down at any moment and drag you under. “Say it! Say my name!” His voice was harsh and you suddenly saw great wings spreading out behind him, brilliant white against the dark of the Throne. Even though you wanted to come more than anything, you resisted the gravitational pull at your center, frightened by his terrible beauty and the violence in his manner.

“Say it! Say Lucifer!”

Straining with every bit of your mental and emotional strength, you wrenched your hand away from the Throne, fisting it into the hair at the back of Crowley's head as an immense shockwave of pleasure burst from your center.

“Crowley!” Your shout was hoarse as you continued to slam down onto him. “Ah! Fuck yes, Crowley!” Moments later, his hips stuttered erratically against yours and you could have sworn you heard him groan your name low in his throat, but the pulse racing in your ears made it hard to be sure.

You collapsed against Crowley's chest, both of you heaving and gasping for air. He wrapped his arms around your back and tilted his lips to meet yours, puffing a little through a lazy, satiated kiss. You moaned into his mouth when he rocked his hips up into you once more, sending a last lingering aftershock singing down your nerve endings.

With a sigh, you pulled back, lips curving when you saw Crowley blinking back at you, more relaxed than you'd seen him in your short acquaintance. It seemed like the wrong time to bring up the vision, or whatever it was. Half convinced it had been nothing more than an echo of the past, you decided not to mention it. You laid one hand on his cheek, fingers tingling a little at the rough texture.

“I seem to recall you saying something about a bed earlier. Can we go there?”

Returning your smile, Crowley raised one eyebrow and one hand.

“Your wish appears to be my command.”

>SNAP!<

Opening your eyes, you found yourself looking up at the grey silk of an elegantly canopied bed, firelight shadows flickering across the fabric. Sitting up out of the plush pillows, you pushed back the pristine white sheets and with a shock, realized that not only were you clean and dry as if you'd just taken a shower, you were dressed in the most beautiful negligee of deep, dark red. A quick glance confirmed that you were alone in the bed, but before you could even look around the large room searching for Crowley, he approached clad in a black (what else?) dressing gown of thick raw silk.

Coming to a stop next to where you sat bemusedly taking in your surroundings, he handed you a tall glass of cold water. Drinking thirstily, your eyes wandered over the room – mostly more of the black marble, with shades of grey and white scattered around, and a massive fireplace currently occupied by a roaring blaze. _If I lived here, I'd bring some fucking color in._ Shaking the random thought away, you turned back to Crowley, smiling as you handed the glass back.

“Wow, that's some kind of transport service.” You gestured down at your new attire and extending the gesture out to include your location. “A girl could get used to this.”

Setting the glass down on the bedside table, Crowley shed his robe. “Yes, Y/N, you could.”

Before you could process what that might mean, he was lifting the sheet and crawling in over you, forcing you to lie back into the pillows below him as his mouth landed an easy kiss on your shoulder. Shifting to one side, he reached out and pulled you to lie against him.

Settling one arm over his chest, you relaxed, letting your mind wander a little as he traced lazy patterns on your back with one finger. Not much later, your curiousity got the better of you and you broke the silence.

“So were they a good ten years? Between the deal and the debt collection. Was it worth it?”

The bold and unexpected question made Crowley bark with laughter before he answered. “If you're talking about the sex, not really. In fact, in some ways it was worse. But the confidence, now that's something else entirely. Even though I knew the truth, that having a big dick isn't necessarily all it's cracked up to be, the whole world is set up to admire it as some kind of badge of superiority. I walked differently, talked differently, carried myself with more boldness and bravado. It was _that_ that made those ten years worth it, not the extra three inches.”

You were fascinated by the glimpse into the workings of Crowley's mind. “Is that why you didn't shop for a vessel with more, shall we say, _generous_ endowments? Not that I'm complaining in the slightest.” You ran an affectionate hand idly down over his crotch, relishing his sharp intake of breath.

“Smart girl. Yes, it didn't seem worth the trouble. You know, it's funny, that story has made me the butt of jokes and snide remarks for centuries, but I wouldn't change it for anything.”

“Why is that?”

“It leads people to underestimate me and I find that to be terribly useful. If they feel safe enough to laugh behind my back, they're more likely to make a misstep if they happen to be plotting against me. Trust me, it's happened more than once.”

Suddenly, a minor mystery that had been nagging the back of your brain became clear. “That explains the dingy-ass fake throne room, doesn't it?”

“Right again. I save the real thing for people that I want to impress. It's better if everyone else continues to think of me as the slightly laughable, puffed up salesman they expect to see.”

The thought that you were one of the people he wanted to impress made you grin delightedly. Turning into him, you stretched up to press an open-mouth kiss to the skin of his neck, feeling his pulse jump to match yours. “Well, I for one will never underestimate you, my King. In fact, I have every confidence that you could make me come again right now.”

Gripping your arms, Crowley rolled so that you were under him and you felt his hot mouth land on your own pulse point, making you gasp a little.

“As I said, smart girl.”

 

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, questions, and critiques are ALWAYS welcome!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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